Epiphany
by R Amythest
Summary: The underside of a carriage is not the best place to be having an epiphany, but like with many other things, Guy has no choice. Matthew x Guy fluff


**AN**: I had half an idea awhile ago and I merged it with another idea on a whim. Hence, we have random Rekka fic where the sarcasm is thick like banana pudding with flies' entrails blended in and ultimately no point or decent ending. Because once again, I cannot be bothered to edit anything worth editing.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Nintendo, Intelligent Systems, or Fire Emblem.

* * *

Guy had an epiphany. It was not the best place to be having an epiphany, but that wasn't his choice. These things chose when and where to happen by themselves. In this case, Guy was lying on his back with half his body below a carriage, surrounded by wheels that threatened to crush him should the nervous horse spook.

"Matthew," he said, staring at the partially worn boards above his head.

"Yes?" Matthew hummed, sitting far more comfortably somewhere by the side of the road. Guy imagined him perched on a conveniently placed tree stump, watching with a derisive grin.

"When did this happen?"

"Oh, Guy," he teased, "have you really forgotten already? About half an hour ago."

Guy felt an angry flush coming on as he glared at the gloomy wood. At least the wood couldn't glare back. "Not that!" he spat, resigning himself to bringing up the topic. "I-I mean... why did I agree to bring you to meet my parents?"

"Why did you?" Matthew probed, more amused than anything.

Growling, he squirmed closer to the problem wheel, examining the woodwork. It wasn't as if Guy knew how carriages worked – Matthew probably had more experience than him – but after insults to his manliness, he didn't have much of a choice. "I think there's something stuck in here," he mumbled. He heard Matthew give an unhelpful "hmmm" and, half-heartedly, prodded at the dark object caught in the wheel. Heat seemed to be building up in him – be it from the Sacaean weather or his frustration at this task, he couldn't tell – which in turn did not help his fine motor skills. "I thought you were the one with good hands," he shot, hearing the inkling of a pout on the edge of his words.

"But you said you could handle it. Very virtuous of you, Guy."

Guy fumed and wondered briefly if the obtrusive object would fall out if he kicked it. After he got up, of course. And preferably not slamming his forehead against the carriage while getting up.

"Say, Guy, I wonder," Matthew began, and Guy cringed and prepared for the worst. "Do you think that perhaps some creativity would help here?"

Matthew's creativity was something to be feared, more often than not. "No." Pause. Guy gave in. "L-Like what?"

"If it's stuck, it should just come right out if you took the wheel off."

Guy hoped, for both their sakes, that Matthew did not have that idea all along.

"I would've told you in the first place if you weren't defending your honor so adorably."

Guy attempted to indignantly leap to his feet but smacked his forehead against the bottom of the carriage instead. "Ow." And, to his dismay, Matthew's method worked perfectly and smoothly, and they were back in the carriage in five minutes.

"I hate you," Guy muttered spitefully, nursing his raw hands.

Absently, Matthew replied, "I'm sure." Sulking, Guy most definitely did not enjoy Matthew's hands in his hair. Not in the least.

"When did this happen, anyway?"

"If I tell you," Matthew said, teasing again, "will you invent a time machine and stop it from happening?"

Without good humor, Guy glared back. "That's ... that's ridiculous!"

"Hmm, I suppose I can't tell you, then."

Blushing furiously, Guy turned his head away – leaving his braid at the mercy of Matthew's whims, he realized belatedly – and grumbled, "This isn't fair."

"Oh, love's never been fair," he said, again absently. Guy shot him a murderous look for injecting the l-word into their perfectly ambiguous conversation.

"Why did it have to be _you_?"

"Because I'm wonderfully charming and dashing." Receiving no response, Matthew gave the braid flapping in his face a little tug. "So are you going to tell the horse to start trotting?"

"You're not meeting my parents."

"And you don't love me at all." He again was met with silence from Guy's back. Rolling his eyes and picking up the reins himself, he bade the horses to move. "You're a terrible liar, Guy."

Guy would have been off much better without this particularly epiphany today. His oblivious state of insisting that it was just a sort-of friendship had been a very nice state. It did not involve fixing carriages or introducing strange men to his parents, who would doubtlessly disapprove. But this was the way his life was now, and however it got here or whatever it went, he grudgingly admitted that it wasn't that bad. He glared and hoped that was apparent to Matthew, behind him.

"Come on, Guy. Life's great," Matthew chirped with a nudge.

"With you in it?"

"I only make it better."


End file.
